“But, mother, Miss Douglas is in no way accountable for what you saw. I alone am to blame. I had just asked her to be my wife——” “What!” exclaimed both women, aghast. “Yes; I began to love that beautiful girl the first moment I saw her. Further intercourse has only served to deepen and strengthen that sentiment, and to-day I resolved to ask her to be my wife, that I might shield and protect her from further insult and abuse on your part.” “Indeed!” said his mother, growing white with anger. “When is the wedding to take place between you and this lovely beggar?” sneered Isabel. “I warn you not to try me too far, either of you!” Wilbur replied, with a dangerous gleam in his eye; then added: “You did not permit me to finish my statement. However, I have only to tell you that Miss Douglas has refused me.” His mother heaved a sigh of intense relief, and murmured: “What an escape!” While Isabel retorted: “Showed her good sense for once! She probably knew she would not be received into a respectable family after what occurred yesterday. You always were a fool when there was a pretty face around.” “Thank you! But be it known to you both, that if she had so chosen, I should have made Miss Douglas Mrs. Wilbur Coolidge just as soon as the law would have allowed,” was the stern reply. “Now, if you please,” he added, addressing his mother, “I would like you to write a recommendation for Miss Douglas.” “A recommendation for what—truth and honesty?” she sneered. “For her thorough education and superior accomplishments, and her efficiency and success as a governess,” he retorted, firmly. “I shall do no such thing!” was the indignant reply. “Then, mother, mark my words, if Miss Douglas goes away from here without a recommendation from you, as a good governess, a refined and cultivated lady, I leave this house also to-day, and utterly refuse to accompany you farther on your tour. Is it not enough,” he continued, excitedly, “that you abuse and insult her, prowling about among her possessions, and appropriating them, without driving her forth from your home with no means of providing for herself in the future?” “Of course those jewels do not belong to her, Wilbur—why will you persist in such nonsense? I honestly believe the girl is a thief!” said Mrs. Coolidge, impatiently. “But just suppose the future proves they are her property, who, then, will be the thief?” he demanded, hotly. “Why, if she can prove it to me satisfactorily, then I shall have to yield them up to her, of course,” replied Mrs. Coolidge, flushing, and not relishing this side of the question. “Will you give her the recommendation?” “I suppose I shall have to, in order to keep you with us.” She dreaded nothing so much as his roaming off by himself. “Then make it out at once—and a good one let it be, too; for Miss Douglas leaves to-day.” “Does she, indeed? I have not dismissed her yet, I believe,” sneered the irate woman. But she sat down to the table and began to write.